


Complicated Notions

by icarus_chained



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Awkward Conversations, Friends With Benefits, Friendship, Future Fic, M/M, No Promises No Lies, Post-Coital, Post-Season/Series 07, painful conversations, past betrayal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-13
Updated: 2017-09-13
Packaged: 2018-12-27 09:31:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 970
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12078342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icarus_chained/pseuds/icarus_chained
Summary: A little interlude, sometime in the Long Night. Bronn and Tyrion sharing a bed at Winterfell, and doing their best to keep it as uncomplicated as possible. Not entirely successfully.





	Complicated Notions

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not too happy with this, I have a suspicion it's a bit too sappy for them, but everything's fighting me at the minute, so here we go?

It was odd, lying panting on some frozen Winterfell cot with Tyrion Lannister wedged alongside him. The man fit oddly, a squat shape along Bronn's left side, head heavy on Bronn's shoulder and stubby fingers tracing idly across Bronn's chest. Naked chest. He was starting to freeze his fucking tits off. Neither of them had thought to stack the fire before ... well.

He was a hell of a fuck, Tyrion Lannister. Bronn would give the little shit that. All clever tongue and clever fingers, and an entirely respectable sword in his trousers. One he knew how to use and all. Oh yes. Not a thing wrong with the man. Not when it came to fucking, anyway. 

It was everything _else_ that the bugger tended to make complicated.

"I feel like it would be rude to ask if I owed you anything for this," the man commented lightly. Carefully lightly, no inflection in his voice at all. Proving Bronn's fucking point. "I'll admit, I'm not the best judge of this sort of thing. I don't normally fuck my friends."

Bronn snorted. 'Friends', the man said. Though he supposed it wasn't that far from the truth. Hardly the issue, but maybe not too far from true.

"No," he agreed. "Mostly you fuck whores. And then fall in love with them. Sometimes kill them. I can see why you might be a bit confused."

Tyrion flinched, but only a little bit. He was too tired these days for a whole lot else. Bronn knew the feeling. He wriggled an arm out from under the man and wrapped it around his shoulders instead. Tyrion sighed, leaning into him.

"Yes," he said tiredly. "I suppose I do at that. Not to worry. I'll try not to fall in love with you."

Bronn chuckled, tugging him close in the vague hope that it'd warm them both up. "It's the not-killing-me part I'd be most interested in," he offered mildly. Tyrion snorted. "Besides. I doubt you're in much danger. Not exactly lovable, me. And not a whore, either."

There was an oddly long pause at that. Bronn raised his head, squinted down at the matted blond curls on his shoulder. Tyrion twisted slightly, hitched himself up to lie more on Bronn's chest, his bearded chin sharp and digging into Bronn's collarbone. Green eyes stared thoughtfully up at him. Bronn raised an eyebrow back. Curiosity, mostly. Maybe a bit of worry. The bastard could be dangerous, if he took a notion to be.

"... No," Tyrion mused eventually. "You're not a whore. A mercenary, of course, but not a whore. Nobody pays you to love them. Or to be loyal to them either."

Bronn grimaced, and dropped his head back onto the lump pretending to be a pillow. "Some do," he said wryly. "Or they _think_ that's what they're paying for. Some cunts are idiots. There's not much help for that."

"Of course," Tyrion agreed. Bronn could all but see him smiling. That wry, slightly twisted smirk. "A mistake one only makes once, I'd wager. Hmm?"

"Aye," Bronn answered shortly. A little sadly, a little tiredly. "Only once."

Another pause, then. This one older and sadder and nastier. He really was getting fucking old. Tired all the fucking time, these days. It'd been a long bloody winter, and a longer bloody war. The bugger lying in his arms knew it just as well as he.

"... I wouldn't kill you, you know," Tyrion said quietly. Bronn closed his eyes. Pretended not to listen to him. Tyrion went his merry way anyway. Always did. "You're not like Shae. Uglier, for a start." Bronn huffed, a grin curling his lips, and Tyrion's voice went lighter. Gentler. "You never lied to me. You never pretended. You told me up front you'd sell me if you had to, and you gave me the option of buying you back. I wouldn't have killed you. You're a friend."

A friend. Not like Shae. Not a whore. A friend. And he didn't get it, did he? He didn't fucking hear himself, the thing in his voice. An oath. An offer. A Lannister and his fucking debts.

"Look," Bronn said, nearly desperately. Holding the man in against his chest, fishing around for a fur to throw over them both. He was so fucking tired of freezing. "It's just a fuck, all right? Nobody's paying anybody. You're good at fucking. You're not quite Pod and his magic cock, but you're not bad either. That's all it is. That's all anybody owes anybody. Let's leave it at that, eh? Save the complications for the morning."

Because there would _be_ complications. There was never anything else, when it came to Tyrion fucking Lannister. Bronn should have known that before he'd ever climbed into bed with him. But he was ... he was getting fucking old, was what he was. It'd been a long bloody war. He was getting old, and tired, and there was something ...

There was something almost nice, about a man who called you friend, and knew how to keep his promises.

"I'm glad, you know," Tyrion whispered, smug and evil in the darkness under the furs, an imp curled up at Bronn's side. "I'm glad I didn't have a castle to hand. I'm glad I couldn't pay you. Coming back to Westeros would have been a lot less interesting if you'd died fighting the Mountain on my behalf."

Bronn laughed, a little helplessly, and held him near. "It was a good choice," he agreed easily. "I look a lot better with my head still attached and not a bloody smear on the ground. So do you, come to that."

"Mmm," Tyrion hummed, burrowing into him. "Here's to weaselling out and not getting our heads smashed in. Long may that continue!"

And _that_ , at least, Bronn could happily agree with.

**Author's Note:**

> ... I think I ship them. A lot. *grins sheepishly*


End file.
